


/disposable teens

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Gen, High School, Internalized Homophobia, Slurs, Teabagging, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Unrequited Love, halloween party, which is why its explicit tagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Matthew Mara uses life's glorious loopholes to get into a party. The only non-school party he's ever managed to get into.





	/disposable teens

Nothing is worse than waking up on a Monday morning. Remembering the approach of school. Or work. School, in Matthew Mara's case. A fucking cesspool of ingrates, pigs, horny dumb sluts, and overgrown douchedicks made entirely of meat with no substance.

Of course, there's no reason to listen to the rambling opinions of a ratty-looking goth kid with braces on both his teeth and his legs at all times. It was a cold day in Hell, that anyone bothered to interact with him. Artemis Dubois, maybe, as she was the only person who well and truly didn't care about her social standing. Oh, Matthew claimed he didn't. He only cared about the opinions of Robert Smith, Siouxsie Sioux, and his classmate Deandra. But that was a lie, no man really doesn't care. Except Artemis. She really,  _really_ didn't care.

Matthew always woke up early. He was one of two, maybe three boys in his grade who wore make-up. Dennis definitely did, and he liked to pretend nobody could notice. But Matthew was no idiot, contrary to popular belief. Nobody's skin was naturally that monochrome. The bastard had lip fillers, too. What a goddamn freak.

Getting a good, deep, smoky eye was an art form. Sure, Matthew constantly looked like he was begging you to donate to the hospital he  _no doubt_ lived in, suffering long from polio or some other illness, but a good face of make-up could add a little power to his step, at least. His step on the Doc Martens that his orthopedist told him time and time again would destroy his already-swollen knees. He had arthritis. At 17, fucking  _arthritis_. He always lied and said they were caused by sports injuries, but no sports injury plagues a man for over two years. His dad said it wasn't enough of an issue to warrant wasting time and money on a knee replacement surgery.

Every Monday, he had to face the fact that he was an arthritic little twink in a Bauhaus t-shirt, and would never be more than that.

He'd always make the school bus. He begged his father to just drive him to school, because riding that bus was a test of his will to live. And always his dad said no, he had to go to work, and if it was really that bad, no doubt  _Davey_ would do something.  _Davey_ would help. That son of a bitch hadn't done anything for Matthew since he plopped out of the womb in a smelly pile of placenta and baby barf and whatever else is inside a puss when there's a baby in there. Davey didn't even take the bus. He'd just walk. Which Matthew couldn't do. Not for that kind of distance.

The big yellow bus would drive in, and the bus driver would blow the smoke from his cigarette out the open window. Matthew would shuffle towards the back and usually end up trapped beside Artemis or one of the McPoyles, maybe Ingrid Nelson if he was lucky. Today was an Artemis day. Of them all, he probably minded her the least. She didn't speak much to him, but taking the window seat beside her was a safe bet. At least, safer than exposing himself to an open aisle, filled with gawking, laughing monkeys. She was having a debate with Charlie Kelly. One of "The Gang". Probably the least awful of them. Perhaps because he knew the taste of cement on his teeth as Matthew did, but more likely, because he was a safe combination of weak and stupid.

Still, he greeted Matthew with the classic.

"Hey, Rickety Cricket!" Then he began to chirp. Matthew ignored him, prayed that nobody was alerted to his presence, and crawled into the safety nook beside Artemis. His name was  _not_ Rickety Cricket. He was Matthew Mara. Destroyer of worlds, and shit.

There was only one bet, in times like this, and it was making himself as small as possible. He couldn't tuck his legs in, but he could, at the very least, shrink into the corner. No matter what, he was vulnerable from the back. Whoever sat behind him could reach over and shout something in his ear, or a personal favorite of classmate Adriano Calvanese, put out a cigarette on the back of his head, the little blank space where his hair met up. 

Thankfully, today's ride was remarkably calm. He figured that he had someone of moderate decency sitting behind him. (Ingrid, maybe.) Either that, or they simply didn't notice him. Which was possible, he certainly wasn't all that tall. Him, and Charlie, and poor Margaret McPoyle were all late bloomers. Destined for pure midgetry. But it helped a whole lot, in times like these.

The bus stopped, and like every school day, he waited for everyone else to leave before him. Days, months, years of being tripped in the aisles made him as sharp as a brand new steak knife, and he'd fucking know if anyone stayed back to mess with him. Today they might've assumed he wasn't there. Perhaps, if he made a run for it, nobody would find him?... Ah, but then the principal would call his dad, and then he'd have to face something worse than the beatings and the bruisings: stern, fatherly disappointment.

He picked up a bag of Goldfish crackers at the vending machine and shoveled them down, because like usual, he'd been dumb and forgotten about breakfast. First period, right on time. Way too early for math, but he had his homework and he was as ready as possible.

Entering the room, he made his way to his desk. He always sat in the back, as far away from all human interaction as possible. It was a place of comfort, like a cave. Even though his desk was carved into. Everyone at school was armed with something pointy. (Matthew attached steel caps in the toes of his boots for self-defense, but it was a pretty bad botch job and not very comfortable.) Permanent marker wasn't quite permanent enough. Whoever was responsible really needed it known, that Matthew Mara was not only a 'FAGGOT', but also a 'FREAK'. The handiwork was far too shabby to be Dennis' doing. It was probably Mac. At this point, Mac was the only one who still thought calling Matthew a 'faggot' was both original and funny.

Usually the only people to join him in the back were  _the usual gang of weirdos_. McPoyles, Artemis, Psycho Pete, and so on and so forth. This class, the row was shared by Deandra Reynolds. It was the only good thing he had, really.

She really was a goddess. His intents were pure, disgustingly so, in fact. He'd write her poetry, buy her chocolates, carry her books... She never told him to go away. It was almost certain he was being used. But that wasn't her fault. It was all on Dennis, that fucking bastard, warping everyone around him. He turned Maureen Ponderosa into an evil bitch and he was trying to turn Dee into an evil bitch, just like he was. And Matthew was dumb. He believed he could counteract it with kindness.

He waved at her. She looked at him, and grimaced. Visibly. That was fine.

Math passed with a relative level of normalcy. Matthew, despite having the word "math" in his name, wasn't great at it. But nobody would really judge him for that. In fact, they'd probably judge him more if he  _was_ good at math. He was still one of the only people to hand homework in. Dad kept him whipped like that.

Then came English. He sat directly in a goddamn McPoyle sandwich. And the worse ones, too. Liam on the left, Ryan on the right. (Heh.) They smelled weird, and always asked him for stuff, like pencils. They got way too close. In a way that made him deeply, deeply uncomfortable. Of course, if it'd been anyone he'd be bothered, but the fact that it was those two monobrowed freaks was even more frightening. Ryan he wasn't really worried about on a sexual level, but Liam was known for "out-of-family deviancy". (A.K.A. not ONLY fucking your own siblings.) That guy was definitely gunning for a piece of Dennis Reynolds, but Matthew was equally twinky and probably much easier to take advantage of.

They really did smell like milk.

Just all the time. A constant fucking milk smell. 

Despite having been here for a long time, he never got used to it.

Science. This was his least favorite class, because he sat  _directly_ behind Dennis Reynolds. Dennis, the man just determined to make his life a living, breathing hell. Matthew couldn't stand him. His shallow, crude, one-track mind. A man who, despite feigning heterosexuality, was  _deeply invested_ in cramming his testicles into Matthew's open mouth at any possible chance.

That day was a lab, and the lanky fuckwit managed to bag some busty cheer girl. Page? Polly? Something that started with P. As they worked, Matthew had to watch blankly while Dennis slowly, "subtly" felt her up like the nasty freak he was. He'd been partnered with Margaret, the last and frankly least creepy of the McPoyle siblings, and she watched too. Though clearly with sexual intrigue. She fisted her long t-shirt between her legs and licked her hairy upper lip like some kind of horny lizard. 

Only Dennis could build a sexual situation from dissecting frogs. Matthew managed to work with his fully silent partner who also smelled like a goddamn cheese factory, and got the amphibian split open. The lab was interrupted when Charlie Kelly was caught  _eating_ the frog guts. He was sent to the office, walked out by Mac, who couldn't be trusted doing it on his own anyway. The frog Matthew got was full of eggs. A mother, dead on the table. Matthew was more sympathetic for the tadpoles than the frog, who'd no doubt had a good run. Of course, at some point Margaret once again lost concentration when Dennis was clearly going in for the kill on P... Persephone? Or something. She was notably a bit resistant. They were in class, after all. Dennis was visibly disappointed, but still did squeeze oddly close to her.

Margaret tugged at Matthew's shirt, and then motioned towards the two  _fuckbirds_. Then herself. Then Matthew. Matthew wrinkled his nose.

"No way!" His voice was lowered to a whisper. She furrowed her brow, clearly annoyed, but didn't press any further. Class ended and she stormed out, no doubt to violently masturbate in the bathroom with the stall door slightly open. Matthew had heard stories.

P.E. Also known as the worst thing ever invented by man. Coach had the very heartwarming idea that the disabled can do anything if they try. He still had yet to make Matthew Mara good at dodgeball. He took one red rubber ball to the shoulder and hit the floor. Which was fine, really. The artful physical rivalry between Artemis and Mac was much more fun to watch than to experience firsthand. The bull-dyke versus the meathead. Who would reign victorious at the end of the year? Recently the scales had been tipping in Mac's favor, but Artemis clearly wasn't going down without a fight. She took him out using a skilled maneuver that involved cutting clean through the waves of air pressure and slamming that bastard right in his stupid face. Matthew wished he had a polaroid picture of the moment when the blood began to gush out.

Then lunch came around. A brief reprieve, assuming he kept far away from any of the scum. The back of the school was usually a safe place. He used to quite literally eat lunch in the bathroom, but people would fuck in there, Charlie was usually being loudly bullied in there, sometimes he'd catch Bill Ponderosa masturbating in there because he'd grunt like a fucking bulldog, it was just awful.

He'd also taken to making his own lunch. There was no guaranteeing the school lunches would agree with his braces. Or any other part of him, for that matter! They had chicken nuggets that you could literally bounce like tiny rubber balls. He heard someone had gotten an intestinal blockage from one of those things.

"Hey Cricket."

Artemis just-so-happened to be in his usual sitting place today. He kind of felt like she pitied him. In a weird way. "C'mere."

He approached her in silence.

"...Yeah?"

"Listen here, I'm gonna grant you the offer of a lifetime. Pop a squat, don't be a stranger." With a fair amount of trouble, he managed to lower himself onto the set of two concrete steps that he used as a chair every day. Artemis was shoving the cardboardy cafeteria pizza into her mouth. "So get this. I got an invitation to Adriano's big Halloween party he does every year, so like, not the shitty school one."

"Thanksch for rubbing it in."

"Hold on. I'm not done. So here's the thing. I already have plans from  _out of town_ on the same day. And I noticed that, uh, you've literally never been to a party outside of school before. Aside from when Mac and Dennis kidnap and teabag you, anyway."

"...Go on."

Artemis pressed the paper invite into his chest. These things were basically used as  _tickets_.

"So. You go."

"I-Wuh?"

"You go, why not. Live your best life. Want some hash?"

"Not right now, uh..." Matthew swallowed. "I'unno if thisch isch a good idea."

"If you really don't wanna, then just pass it off to someone else. But, you know, Dee told me she'd be there, and--"

"Dee? There?!"

"Yeah. And I know you--"

"Shshshsh!" Matthew looked around a bit. Nobody out there but one janitor and a few squirrels. "...And thisch'll get me in. In there? With thosche asschholesch?"

"Yup. Hash?"

"I SCHAID NO! I'm schorry. I'm very- Wow." Deep breaths. One in, one out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Five seconds, five seconds. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, fucking  _consumed_ by the excitement. "You are- you are a fucking, blessched, I don't even know..."

"Yeah."

"If there'sch anything I can do--"

"Chilling the fuck out would be a good start." Artemis paused. "I think you need some hash."

"I'll... fuck, I don't know." 

"Didn't Dee tell you to eat horse shit once?"

"Yeah? It happensch."

Artemis rose a brow. Apparently her standards for romance were much higher, which was probably why she was single. This was not a place for standards. Then again, Dee was so  _far_ past standard, he couldn't even explain it.

The rest of the day went by quickly. Soon enough he was laying in bed. And another school day came, and went. Friday was the day of reckoning.

Friday was the day Matthew Mara would rise.

* * *

 After a fair amount of deliberation, Matthew decided dressing up as a robot wouldn't be a bad idea.

He already had metal leg braces. It was all just about wrapping tinfoil and shiny things all around himself and going  _beep, boop_. Last time he attended one of these parties, his look was completely ruined by those braces. He stuck a big red dot to his forehead, and bam, he was Hal 9000. He folded up his invite, stuck it in his boot and made his way to the address. A sprawling mansion. The Reynolds residence. He recognized it, as he'd walked Dee there countless times.

He knocked on the door. It was answered by Maureen Ponderosa, in a sexy cat outfit.

"Rickety Cricket? Who the hell told you to come here?"

"Artemisch donated her invitation to me, I have it right here--" He pulled it out, pressing it into Maureen's hands. She balked. "--scho it'sch fair game."

"Seriously?  _Den-nis!"_

Matthew froze up as Dennis revealed himself. A vampire. A long cape and fake teeth. He scowled.

"What the fuck are you doing here."

"I have an invite. Artemisch didn't wanna come, scho I did, in her plasche."

"Son of a..." Dennis looked away for a moment. "Fine. Whatever." Matthew grinned. Score one for Mara. The place was huge, and the entire grade was seemingly crammed in there. He definitely didn't have any friends around, but he'd need somebody to be his... party partner? Someone to keep him from getting his ass kicked. What luck, goddamn Margaret McPoyle was chatting up... Uh... Kim. Kim something-or-other. And by "chatting up", of course, he meant, she was staring deep into her soul. Using his admittedly limited social knowledge, he wedged somewhat between the two.

"Hi Margaret. Hey, Kim." He took on sort of a tone, like, an anxious one. "Can we talk over there? Juscht usch?" Kim cocked a brow, but nodded. Success on phase one! They edged away from the silent beast, who was ironically dressed as an angel. Kim appeared to be some kind of mermaid. It wasn't as glamorous as she was most likely hoping.

"What do you want, boner."

"I figured you'd wanna get away from the  _monobrowed she-beascht of the McPoyle legaschy_." 

"Oh." Her tone stopped being accusatory. "...Thanks. Rickety Cricket?"

"Matthew Mara."

"Wait, I-I seriously thought Cricket was your real name. Holy shit."

"Yeah. I'm sure you're not the only one."

"Heyyy!" Matthew's concentration was broken by the ear-splitting sound of Charlie fucking Kelly entering the room. And he had Mac with him. Mac, who gave Matthew this look, like Matthew was something he just spat into a tissue. "Hiya Kim." Kim cringed a bit.

"Hi Charlie..."

"Guess what me and Mac are."

"...What."

"We couldn't decide, so we're Beavis and Stimpy! I'm Beav--"

"That's nice." Kim edged away from the conversation, and Charlie ran after her. That motherfucker. That  _scruffy son of a bitch_ , if he survived whatever would come next, Matthew swore to make a bag-strap out of his fucking cock-skin. 

Matthew and Mac locked eyes.

"'sup, faggot."

"Jeschusch, don't you ever have any original material? You schound like a broken record. A really retarded one."

" _At least I don't look like a lady!_ " 

"Go eat a boner."

"That's your job, homo."

"What did gay people ever even do to you, man."

"What did- they go against God's natural order? Which you might know if you weren't a pagan queer!"

"Whatever, leave me alone."

"I wanna know how in the shit you got in here."

"Uh? Schomeone didn't wanna come, scho I monopolisched their invite."

"Who."

"Artemisch Dubois."

"Of course! Because you're both  _gay_. I would say you should both  _fuck each other_ , but that wouldn't  _work_ , because she's a  _dyke_ , and you're a  _fag_."

"Neither of usch have ever even come out asch gay."

"I know a gay homo person when I see one! And you're wearing silver lipstick!"

"...It looksch good though."

Mac fumbled for words, as if he was offset by the concept of a man looking good in make-up. "Dennisch wearsch lipglossch all the time. You might wanna take that one up with him, schinsche you're already on a cruschade."

"Lipg... Wait, really?"

"Yeah."

"I... Hold on." Mac turned away and stomped off. He really was a lot less threatening in what was essentially a set of giant footie pajamas.  _Beavis and Stimpy_ was right. They were both complete idiots. But Matthew felt the roles should have been reversed, costume-wise. 

Dee. He had to find Dee.

Peering into the crowd, it was much harder to find her than usual. He attempted to trace the outskirts of the party to keep from getting stuck too far in. But he was blocked by Ingrid Nelson, A.K.A. Fatty Magoo, who looked all kinds of nervous. She honestly made a halfway-decent princess. Matthew never understood the hatred revolving around her. Perhaps he preferred to have a little more to grab onto when he was railing. (Which, of course, he'd never railed anyone.)

"Maureen Ponderosa stole my wallet."

"Wh... how do you even know it wasch her."

"Because she's..." Ingrid lowered her voice. "She's a two-faced backstabbing cunt and I fucking hate her, that's why."

"Oh, fuck." Matthew paused. "...Me too."

Then he spent a long time trying to find Maureen, who really did blend in pretty well. If she was actually a cat, she'd probably be super good at it. He managed to intercept a drug deal that was using Ingrid's money. Maureen proceeded to take all of the money out and throw the empty wallet at Matthew's head.

He returned to Ingrid, empty wallet in hand. She thanked him, though clearly disappointed.

Dee. Where the fuck was Dee!

He felt like he was pressed in. Parties sucked. He hated parties.

Two hands met his back and sent him careening into the floor. And who else would it be but fucking Adriano Calvanese, and his gang of cronies and whores. Matthew wasn't sure if he could even recognize Adriano as a real person, most of the time, he just came off like a cartoon character.

"Look who decided to appear. Getting Artemis to cheat you in was a ballsy move, Cricket."

Matthew was too busy rubbing his cheek, as if it'd make the pain dissipate any faster. "I saw a great picture of you, Cricks, you had Dennis' balls in your mouth. Did you like it?" A few of Adriano's dumb stupid friends laughed about it. "Where the hell were you running off to, anyway?"

"None of your buschinessch."

"Oof. Gloryhole duty, huh." This sent thralls of laughter through the group of testosterone-riddled fuckboys and their various arm candy. Adriano received a high-five.

"Oh no, you got me. I'm gonna go schuck off dudesch." Ugh, it was gonna be hard getting off the floor. As soon as he managed to hook one leg beneath his body, one of Adriano's friends -- Rob Jaspers, as he was known -- pushed him back down onto his ass. Matthew grumbled. He felt like a turtle on its back. Incapable of rising off of the ground. He huffed, and grunted, and boy if they didn't think that was just the funniest shit. Resigned to this, he finally laid back in defeat. 

He received a harsh kick in the side before the crew of douchebags decided to go do something else. Matthew managed to get back on his feet. 

And then he saw her.

He caught a glint of her back brace in the crowd and began barreling through, as much as he could. He had to tell her. He had to  _show_ her. This was his chance, Artemis said so, and he wasn't ready to fucking waste it. 

His hand caught her back. Gently. She turned around.

"...Rickety Cricket?"

"Yeah! Uh, hi. I wasch juscht, you know... here..."

"How the fuck did you get in here?"

"Uh, Artemisch helped me--"

"Whatever. You wanna get me a drink or what."

"Uh..." He nodded. "Yeah! I can do that. Juscht- Gimme a minute!"

Back into the crowd and out again. He knew where the booze was being kept because the crowd somewhat bled into it, so he managed to wedge his way in there and grabbed two beers. One for Dee, and one for himself. But he was stopped, once a-fucking-gain. This time by... oh, great, Dennis and Mac.

"Hel- _lo_ _oooooo_ , Rickety Cricket."

"Hey fag!"

"Oh. My god. Mac. Shut up." Dennis took a deep breath. "...Who's the second drink for?"

"Maybe they're both for me." Matthew snarked in return.

"Cut the shit. You're trying to seduce my sister, aren't you." Matthew was gnawing the cap off of one of the beers already. Dennis shoved a finger in the opening before he could have a drink. "Answer me, or I will rearrange your organs from the outside."

"Yesch! Jeesch, that'sch unschanitary."

"Unsanit- Well sorry not everyone lives in a  _hospital_ like you do, Cricket. I'm absolutely immaculate."

"And you're gay!" Mac added, which caused Dennis to glare at him. Withdrawing his finger, Dennis still pushed the opened drink down.

"Now. You might want to  _reconsider_ that. Because you know that I don't want your fucking name attached to my legacy. Rickety Cricket? A  _Reynolds_? No thank you."

"Well, uh..." Matthew shrugged. "I don't care." He turned heel and walked away, not hearing another word. That seemed... suspicious. But Matthew was too high on cloud nine to give a shit, really. Back into the sea, he took a sip from his beer. Dee... ah, he didn't lose her again, did he? No, wait, there she was! He managed to get a ways through the crowd. However, he was stopped by something, something awful.

Dee was in the arms of another man. That was her choice, of course. They were kissing. Bill Ponderosa. Reynoldses and Ponderosas only, it seemed. They were making out, furiously. She never said she had a boyfriend.

She  _knew_.

That...  _that bitch!_

Matthew choked on his own spit. She was playing with him. All along, she putzed around with Matthew's  _frail maiden heart_ while getting sexed up by fucking Bill Ponderosa. With his perfect brown hair and perfect figure and perfect everything. And Matthew felt it, he felt the heat rise in his face.

He sobbed. So hard that it hurt. Dee heard him, as he'd gotten awfully close. She stepped away for a moment. Bill came with. She took her drink, and uncapped it in silence. They were at a stalemate, a moment of uncertainty. She was drinking, and then lifted the bottle. Matthew already knew what was coming, as the ale poured over his head. Completely destroying his make-up, and whatever crummy semblance of a costume he'd had to begin with.

"Suck it, fag."

She drew Bill in for another kiss. Matthew was ready to step away and probably hide in his bedroom for the rest of the night, but he felt an impact on the back of his head. 

An impact that sent him to the realm of the sleep.

* * *

So it turned out Mac had slammed him over the head with a beer bottle.

Just his fucking luck. 

He woke up dizzy and tired. And he could taste something sour, and he already knew what it was. The hair was even getting stuck between his teeth and everything, Matthew managed to lift a hand and shove Mac away just in time so he could vomit all over himself and the floor.

"Ah, shit, he's up, Den."

"Oh no. Not liking it much, huh, Cricks." Dennis was sipping from a glass of wine like a pretentious douchebag.

"Mac, I'm out of film." He could hear Charlie, too. Shaking a polaroid camera. "I used up a lot of it on that sweet split Dennis did." Matthew attempted to turn over, and crawl away, but Mac gave him one good in the sides. "Woah, dude. If you murder him we're all going to jail, and I'm too young, man. I feel like you should probably let him go now, I dunno."

"Really, Charlie?" Dennis rolled his eyes. "Just go get more film." He knelt beside Matthew, who still had Mac's  _fucking BALLS near his MOUTH_ and gave him this fake, sympathetic look. Matthew wanted to reach out and rip his eyelids off, tear him to shreds so all the plastic fillers would dribble on the floor. He wanted to break his legs, And his arms. He was so fucking angry, he wanted to, god... He wanted to...

Dennis pressed a pill to his tongue. "It's a sedative."

"Hedduh...?"

"It's easier when you're not talking." 

Matthew swallowed it dry, just wanting to forget.

 

 


End file.
